Leashed dogs and their unleashed humans are now allowed on Governors Island. I learned this because I took the 11:30 AM ferry from Manhattan to the island’s new winter village on Saturday, January 22. On this voyage of fewer than 20 people, tails were a-wagging, including those of the canines, all wonderfully turned out in miniature coats and booties.
“It’s the first day of the dog park,” said the owner of three doggies. She was president of a Manhattan dog association, one of which I cannot remember. Yet other people seemed to know her. In the presence of this estimable fur baby leader, I was so excited I nearly whimpered. I certainly shed some hair.
I tried to take the center lane here on the ferry. No, I was told. That’s for dogs only!
It was cold, about 22 degrees with wind chills well below that. I wore tights, jeans, leg warmers, and three layers of thermal shirts in addition to my winter coat, hat, scarf, and very thick wooly mittens. And as the ferry docked under the Crayola blue sky, I took one appreciative look at the Manhattan skyline.
Then I sucked in a giant lungful of icy air.
No two rides across New York Harbor are ever alike. The way the light plays on the water, the buildings, and the Statue of Liberty! Gasp.
And I just love the idea of an abandoned military base turned into public land. For most of its history, until 1996, the island was home to service men and women and their families. They lived here in houses and apartments. They even had their very own theater, hospital, library, and YMCA. Imagine a Norman Rockwell painting of small-town America — but with Gotham City looming in the background.
Once we reached the island’s Soissons Landing, the dogs ran off to do their deeds near Fort Jay, under the watchful eye of the historic canon. I turned right and headed to Colonels Row, the site of the new winter village that includes a 5,000 foot ice skating rink.
Admission is $11, free on Fridays. Skate rental is $8.
The trees in Colonels Row.
I chose Governors Island because I hoped to avoid the crowds of Bryant Park. Even with timed tickets, the crowds there are too thick to try anything much fancier than a couple of swizzles, legs opening and closing. Carrying my new hockey skates, I itched to perfect speedy stops and cross overs.
For $11 (I didn’t need to rent the $8 skates), I skated and skated as much as I wanted to until the mini-Zamboni man appeared. Except for a coach standing in a circle of orange cones, I was alone, high on the sounds of Madonna and Britney Spears. Every time I neared the hospital side of the rink, where people can rent bikes and sleds, I got a peek of Ellis Island.
“Please, can I finish the song?” I begged. I was the only customer, pushing my luck against the mini-Zamboni.
“No,” the mini-Zamboni man said apologetically. The mini-Zamboni was on the move, trying to prove its worth to larger Zambonis.
Around 1 PM, when my skate ended anyway, I went back to the bench area where I had left my shoes. You can rent lockers. But don’t bother. Who will take your stuff? This is one of the highlights of the winter village. You get to test your pure sense of trust.
While unlacing, I started getting cold. Really, really cold. Meanwhile, birthday parties began forming, their participants wearing rental skates and party hats. Ugh.
Note: Get your tickets here, choosing the 10 AM to 1 PM slot if you want to avoid birthday parties. Fridays are free.
To warm up, I could have had a taco from the taco truck. Or I could go to Little Eva’s for chili and a $15 rum-spiked hot chocolate with fire-roasted marshmallows. I chose the latter.
I took my items to one of the firepits. Sadly, they were covered for the moment. I sat down in a red Adirondack chair and embraced the discomfort.
I finished my food and beverage very, very quickly. Immediately, I felt a buzz. Here are the remnants of my meal.
What’s left of my hot chocolate and chili from the Little Eva’s food truck.
Now fully warmed and fearless, from the inside out, I walked up to a sauna trailer. Yes, a sauna trailer advertised here on this house. I looked inside the trailer and really wanted to give it a whirl. Very Scandanavian with a cedar interior. Reserve your space here.
Next I walked through the arch of Liggett Terrace and poked my head inside the little craft store, long vacant. I can just imagine this little store selling cross stitch supplies, the epitome of 1990s chic.
The abandoned craft store in the archway to Liggett Terrace.
On the other side of the arch, I found empty food trucks, all ready for the summer. The nearby Collective Retreat area was also empty, the big glamping tents gone with only the foundations left behind. I had a wonderful time glamping just a few months ago.
I selected one lone permanent hammock in Hammock Grove and just swung and swung, a master of my circumstances. People peddling surreys floated by me.
Prepare your journey
Before you board the ferry on the Manhattan side, use the terminal’s clean bathrooms and get a $4 coffee at Joe’s in the terminal. Then sip your expensive coffee in the waiting area near the doors to the ferry. Don’t miss the commissioned public work of mural painter Duke Riley, a Brooklyn-based artist and seafarer.
The title of his piece, Not for Nutten, alludes to Nut Island, an earlier name for Governors Island. Subjects in his mural are inspired by ships in bottles. But the bottles in the painting are single-use containers, the kind that float around New York Harbor. Here is a video I found on YouTube.
Fear of Omicron reduces crowds. I found that I was in my own sphere, free to enjoy the mural with plenty of elbow room.
Part of a mural by Duke Riley.